


Quiet

by Rinielle



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-02
Updated: 2014-05-02
Packaged: 2018-01-21 13:59:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1552949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinielle/pseuds/Rinielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he spoke it was like watching an inferno, one you couldn’t take your eyes from. It was just that, he seemed to leave all of that behind on the podium when he returned back to earth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Quiet

Enjolras was not boring! Enjolras was anything but boring. He was fire and passion, he was enigmatic, he was driven. When he spoke it was like watching an inferno, one you couldn’t take your eyes from. It was just that, he seemed to leave all of that behind on the podium when he returned back to earth and went about doing the things that human beings do; and he was, of course, human. Grantaire no longer needed to be reminded. It had been a strange adjustment to make from his idolisation, the first time he’d seen Enjolras yawning had been disconcerting to say the least, but they had been together long enough now that he understood. Enjolras was just as human as anyone else, and, as Grantaire also learned to his surprise, Enjolras was a quiet person.

When he wasn’t screaming at the top of his lungs for justice, for freedom, for equality, he liked nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with a book, and there he would sit for hours; completely absorbed. More recently he would do it curled against Grantaire, at least for as long as Grantaire could sit still, which sadly was never nearly so long. If he wasn’t reading or working, he might simply sit with his eyes closed listening to what Grantaire called whale music, and didn’t actually know the real name for. When their friends were all together he would sit upon the sidelines, content simply to watch. Grudgingly he might be dragged up by Courfeyrac or Jehan to dance, but it was never more than a few minutes before he was sat back in a corner smiling warmly at the madness surrounding him. When they had initially swapped harsh words for soft kisses, Grantaire’s biggest fear had been what they would talk about. They disagreed on so many things it seemed impossible that they wouldn’t fall into the trap of forever bickering until they simply got sick of each other. They did talk, of course, but they talked about favourite films, books, artists, about places they’d been, places they wanted to go, places they hoped to go together. Neither was a particular fan of forcing small talk however, so if neither had something to say, they were both perfectly content to sit in silence; to just be with each other. Politics took a back seat without Grantaire even having to ask. He watched the news with Combeferre, and Grantaire let them to it. He did his work at the library, wrote his speeches in his head. If they argued at a meeting, the fight had to be resolved before they crossed the threshold to their apartment. Enjolras, against all expectations, simply didn’t bring it home with him.

Grantaire got used to it. He got used to Enjolras being quiet. Got used to watching him soar, before tucking his wings away once more. Enjoyed being one of the select group of people in his life who got to see him yawn. Cherished sitting quietly for an hour, one hand stroking through golden curls, the other sketching absent cartoons based on whatever book Enjolras had chosen. Adored trading lazy, quiet touches and kisses without it needing to go any further; loved the light breathy sounds he made if it did.

He took offence for him when people complained that he was boring. Spontaneity and excitement were rare occurrences, granted. Their absence in every day life only made him smile wider when he saw that twinkle in blue eyes.

Snow, he'd discovered. Enjolras loved snow. The first time it had snowed since they'd been together, he had been woken up to his wide eyed boyfriend smiling like a six year old at Christmas. They'd taken a walk, which had turned into a snowball fight, which had turned into Enjolras throwing snow down his jumper, both laughing loudly as he tackled him to the floor, kissing him on the nose. But for all the fun they'd had, Grantaire was perfectly happy, once they returned home, to do nothing but wrap themselves in blankets with hot chocolate, and drift off listening to Enjolras murmuring to himself in his sleep.

He would trade a hundred lifetimes of constant chatter and travel and movement for one of those peaceful mornings moving around each other in the kitchen, in quiet harmony, as if they’d been doing it all their lives.

If he wanted more rambunctious society they had a large group of friends with whom he could let off steam, who would dance and play and laugh loudly at the nonsense he spouted at length. Once home all he needed were Enjolras’ soft smiles and chuckles.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick splurge of headcanon feels I had at like 1am =P.


End file.
